Kill Me Once Page 15

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  When the last of the deputies finally cleared out, Dana and Brown pulled on their PPE and carefully rechecked every room for themselves. Three victims in the master bedroom – two females and one male. The male victim had a plastic bag tied tightly over his face. The younger female victim was naked from the waist up and soaked in blood. Dana almost threw up when she saw that the girl’s left nipple had been sliced off.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ she breathed.

  In the kitchen they found a photograph of a naked transsexual paper-clipped to a computer disk and sitting on the counter next to the sink.

  ‘Ten to one there’s nothing in the metadata,’ Brown said. ‘What’s the picture about?’

  Dana’s mind whirred. Her brain was still trying to tell her something through the hot rush of adrenalin, but it was almost as if the words were coming through in a different language.

  Then, suddenly, they clicked into place one by one. ‘I’ll tell you what I think in a minute,’ she told Brown. ‘For now, just run the metadata and see what’s on that disk.’

  Brown nodded and left the kitchen, passing Don Jackson as the sheriff was walking in.

  ‘We must have just missed the motherfucker,’ Jackson growled. ‘This couldn’t have happened more than ten minutes ago. The family car is gone.’

  Dana looked up at him. ‘Find out what make it is and get an APB out on that vehicle. Then get on the phone and have them shut the airport down. I think I know where he’s going next, and it’s too far for him to drive. We don’t have time to wait for FBI Headquarters to make the request, and I think he’s going to try to fly out of here.’

  Jackson frowned. ‘We’d need FAA approval for something like that. Might take some time.’

  Dana glared at him. ‘Time is something we really don’t have right now, Sheriff Jackson. Just get it done as quickly as possible. Please.’

  For a moment Jackson looked as though he might protest further, but then he thought better of it. ‘Yes, ma’am. I’ll see what I can do.’

  Dana left the kitchen and pulled off her mask. She stepped out of the house and flipped her cellphone open. Outside, two ambulances and three TV news trucks had joined the phalanx of cruisers out front. So much for keeping things quiet.

  A pretty young blonde reporter closely followed by a cameraman wearing a backwards baseball cap immediately stepped forward and shoved a microphone in her face. ‘Megan Carter, Channel 4 News. What happened in there, ma’am?’

  Dana ignored the question and turned to a uniformed cop twenty feet away. ‘Get a police line around this house and the two houses on either side. Don’t let anyone through without the proper credentials.’

  To the reporter, she said, ‘Call me later. I’ll try to give you something in an hour or two, but right now I’m busy. I’m sure you understand. Get my number from Sheriff Jackson’s office.’

  When the reporter and other members of the press had been safely escorted a hundred yards away, Dana punched Crawford Bell’s cell number into her phone and brought him up to speed on the latest developments. He’d asked her specifically to call him the moment she had news – good or bad.

  Crawford let out a shocked breath. ‘How many killed?’

  ‘Three.’

  ‘A family?’

  ‘Yeah. Murdered just like the Oteros.’

  ‘Any more weird clues at the scene?’

  Dana shielded her eyes against the late-afternoon sun. ‘Yeah. There was a picture of a he-she attached to a floppy disk.’

  ‘A he-she?’

  ‘Yeah, you know. A tranny. A girly-boy. A chick with a dick.’

  ‘Yeah, Dana, I get it. What was on the disk?’

  ‘Don’t know yet. Brown’s processing it now.’

  ‘How long will it take?’

  ‘Ten minutes maybe.’

  Crawford paused. ‘BTK was eventually tracked down through a floppy disk, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. So at least you’re getting closer. What are your thoughts on the photograph of the transsexual?’

  Dana paused to fix the idea in her mind before sharing it with Crawford. ‘You remember that videotape of Richard Speck? The one taken when he was in prison? The one that turned out to be Bill Kurtis’s big break? Kurtis was only local until he broke that story.’

  ‘You mean the videotape where Speck was smoking drugs with his boyfriend in their jail cell? The one where he had breasts from taking all those female hormones?’

  ‘Exactly,’ Dana said. ‘After they locked him up, Richard Speck became a tranny. He did it to protect himself on the inside after he murdered a houseful of nurses in Chicago in 1966. That’s where I think this guy’s going to strike next. Or at least where he’s going to try to strike next. Have you finished the profile yet?’

  Crawford coughed. ‘No. I’ve been dealing with some other things. I promise to get it to you soon.’

  Irritation flared in Dana’s chest. Soon didn’t cut it in this situation. Not when people were dying. She steadied herself and quickly told Crawford about her attempt to have the airport shut down.

  ‘Good idea,’ Crawford said when she’d finished. ‘Let me know how things shake out. I want to know everything. No holding out on me, Dana. Not now that it’s getting personal.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Dana switched off her cellphone, wondering momentarily what he’d meant by that last line. Don Jackson approached, shaking his head. ‘FAA refuses to shut the airport down. I’ve got the terminal flooded with deputies right now, but that’s the best I can do.’

  Dana hissed under her breath. ‘Goddamn it.’ Then calmed herself and said, ‘Thanks, Sheriff. I know you’re doing the best you can. We dropped this shit-storm into your lap at the last minute and it wasn’t fair of us.’

  Jackson looked relieved. ‘What else can I do to help?’

  ‘Just sit tight for now,’ Dana told him. ‘I’ll let you know if and when I need something else, so be prepared to act fast.’

  Jackson nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  Dana closed her eyes as Jackson moved away. If it had been a terrorist threat – even a perceived one – the FAA would have tripped over its own feet shutting the goddamn airport down. But they wouldn’t do it for a very real serial killer? It was complete and total bullshit.

  She was lost in her thoughts when Brown’s voice jolted her back. He frowned and handed her a sheet of paper. ‘This was on the metadata,’ he said.

  Dana took the sheet of paper and looked down at it. Big block letters spelled out another message from the killer:

  FOOL ME ONCE, SHAME ON YOU. FOOL ME TWICE, SHAME ON ME. HAPPY HUNTING, ASSHOLES. I’LL SEE YOU AGAIN REAL SOON. TELL ME, DANA – HAVE YOU FIGURED OUT WHERE YET?

  PART III

  UPDATING RICHARD SPECK

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Nathan took the off-ramp ten miles south of the airport and pulled into a busy corner gas station to fill the tank of the BMW and buy a cup of black coffee, confident in the knowledge that the authorities would be looking for the Oteros’ Infiniti. Fucking idiots.

  The sharp smell of fuel burned his nostrils as he unhooked the nozzle and thought about his sacred mission again. There were still many prizes to be had along the way, of course, but the biggest prize of all would be the chance to finally get even with Dana Whitestone, the thieving little bitch who’d so carelessly stolen his life all those years ago. That would be the sweetest gift of all.

  He’d relish that one.

  When the automatic pump clicked off to indicate the tank was full, Nathan went inside and peeled off a hundred-dollar bill from the thick stack that he kept secured with a sterling money clip in the front pocket of his trousers. Handing it over to the obese male clerk with the bad teeth and the drooping breasts of a very old woman, he dropped his gaze to the floor and shifted impatiently while he waited for the idiot to count out the change.

  After several interminable
moments, he finally looked up again.

  Jesus Christ! The moron’s lips were moving as he counted out the bills!

  Just when Nathan was sure he’d be forced to lean over the counter and strangle the life out of the inept clerk for so foolishly wasting his time, the sound of the small gold bell above the door jangled cheerily behind him, causing him to turn his head just in time to see a pair of busty blonde nurses from Wichita General strutting in on their long tan legs and brilliantly white shoes.

  And just like that, there it was. The unmistakable confirmation he’d been waiting for.

  Nathan’s ears rang as he watched the nurses fill their large styrofoam cups with steaming double lattes. No way in hell was this a coincidence. These two were safe enough, at least for tonight, but he knew of someone else who wouldn’t be quite so lucky.

  Finally receiving his change from the Darwin Award-winning clerk, he hustled back to the BMW and logged on to his wireless MacBook Pro connection before accessing his membership at the Lonely Hearts Club and calling up the nursing student’s profile. His throat tightened as he read through it again with renewed interest.

  He glanced at the note posted above her picture; saw that she’d be at the library tomorrow night before meeting up with some of her friends for a study session later on.

  Absolutely fucking perfect. Especially with her friends along for the ride.

  In the driver’s seat of the BMW Nathan felt his heart thrill with the possibilities. An electric charge ripped through his muscles as he put the car in gear and pulled out into traffic with the sounds of Ashley Ball playing Lecuona’s ‘Vals De Las Sombras’ on the stereo.

  Goddamn, it felt good!

  He was finally ready to spread his wings and fly like an eagle again, finally ready to recreate Richard Speck’s unforgettably sadistic crime once and for all.

  With one very notable update, of course.

  Next stop: Chicago.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Dana filled Brown in on the possible Richard Speck connection and asked him to arrange for details around all the major hospitals in Chicago.

  ‘It’s a shot in the dark, but we might just get lucky,’ she said. ‘Richard Speck’s victims were nurses, so I’m thinking that’s who our man will go after next.’

  Brown looked at his watch. ‘When do you want to head out to the Windy City? It’s beginning to look like we missed him here.’

  Dana paused. There was still work to be done processing the murder scene here in Wichita, and she wanted to make sure that the work got done the proper way. Only one solution. Brown probably wouldn’t like it – not now that he seemed to think he was personally in charge of her safety.

  She took a deep breath. ‘I want you to stay out here for the next day or two and work the scene for me,’ she told him.

  She saw him about to protest and cut him off. ‘I need you here. It’s important. I’ll head out to Chicago by myself tomorrow and start things there. First I’m stopping off at home in Cleveland to pick up my notebooks and take care of a few other things. I need to touch base with Templeton properly, for a start.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea, Dana? Going out to Chicago on your own? I don’t think I like the idea of you going out there with no backup. We could leave Sheriff Jackson in charge here. Seems like a pretty capable guy to me.’

  Dana shook her head, touched by Brown’s concern but firm in her resolve. ‘No, I want you to do it. Jackson’s all right, but he won’t know what he’s looking for. You will.’

  ‘And what exactly am I looking for?’

  ‘You’ll know it when you see it,’ Dana said. ‘I have complete faith in you.’

  ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’

  Brown blew out a breath. ‘Well, OK, then, I guess. You’re the boss.’

  Dana laughed and punched him lightly on the shoulder. ‘Damn straight, buster, and don’t you ever forget it.’

  Brown clicked his heels together and snapped off a stiff mock salute. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Once upon a time life had been very different for Nathan Stiedowe.

  In the beginning things had been pretty rough – there was certainly no denying that. He knew that his parents were horribly abusive religious nutcases, sick people through and through. It was just that simple, not to mention a singularly odd thing for such a young child to understand.

  His father was an overbearing prick who got off on dispensing Bible verses along with the stinging swats administered with a switch across Nathan’s bare backside for even the slightest infractions. A pilfered apple from the pantry, for example, would find young Nathan with his britches down around his ankles, barefoot in several inches of snow as he hugged the huge oak tree that stood bordering the woods of their secluded property. Over the years, Nathan would grow to hate that tree.

  His father’s loud voice, a pompous mixture of sadism and self-righteousness, would boom out after every stinging lash of the switch. Apparently there must have been a terrible dearth of apples around the country at the time.

  ‘The thief cometh not but for to steal and to kill and to destroy!’ his father would proselytise. ‘Book of John, chapter 10, verse 10. Learn it, boy.’

  The switch bit deep into Nathan’s flesh, raising a nasty-looking welt.

  ‘A false balance is an abomination to the Lord, but a just weight is His delight! Proverbs, chapter 11, verse 1. Make these your words to live by.’

  Again with the goddamn switch.

  ‘In thee have they taken gifts to shed blood; thou hast taken usury and increase, and thou hast greedily gained of thy neighbours by extortion and hast forgotten Me, sayeth the Lord God! Behold, therefore I have smote Mine hand at thy dishonest gain which thou hast made and at thy blood which hath been in the midst of thee. Ezekiel, chapter 22, verses 12 and 13.’

  As the angry red welts popped up on his backside, the tears rolling down Nathan’s cheeks would sometimes freeze in the frigid winter air, but his father never showed any mercy. It just wasn’t in the old man’s nature. Seemed he was more of an Old Testament type of guy.

  ‘Tell me, son,’ his father would eventually ask, breathing heavily from the exertion as vapours of cold breath issued from his mouth. ‘Do you understand why I am punishing you?’

  ‘Yes, father,’ Nathan would manage to choke out, desperately fighting to keep his voice even. The old man hated displays of weakness, would attack it like a rabid dog that had glimpsed a flash of blood on a child’s throat. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Are you sure you understand, boy? A word to the wise here – think very carefully before answering me.’

  Heart in his throat, Nathan would reply, ‘Yes, sir. Stealing is wrong. I understand that.’

  It was the wrong answer.

  ‘You lying little son of a bitch!’

  His father’s enraged voice echoed throughout the deep woods all around them, startling a family of rabbits from its winter burrow. ‘For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to their parents, unthankful and unholy! Two Timothy, chapter 3, verse 2. Never boast of knowledge you do not possess, you foul bastard.’

  If Nathan ever cried out during these regular beatings, things only got worse from there. His father would take a mere whimper as though it were an impudent slap across the old man’s face – that was something he’d learned almost from the very beginning.

  After one especially vicious blow during a lashing administered for forgetting some lines of a Bible verse he’d been expected to memorise, Nathan had instinctively yelped out in pain. Turning around, he immediately realised his mistake when he saw his father’s big, ugly face mottled with fury.

  The switch continued in rapid succession from there.

  ‘Do not cry the false tears of hypocrisy, son! These are not genuine tears of repentance! You weep only because the Lord your God will not deliver you from your ju
st punishment, not because of your sins!’

  The old man shook his head in disgust. ‘You are simply evil, boy – an evil stalk sprung from an evil seed planted in a foreign field.’

  That was dear old Dad.

  His mother hadn’t been much better. An obese woman who didn’t bathe on an especially regular basis, Nathan always suspected she secretly liked to see her son punished. And the sour-milk smell always wafting from her armpits eventually turned his stomach to the point where he couldn’t stand even to be around her any more. To this very day the mere memory of her smell was enough to make his gorge rise.

  Thankfully, though, his mother largely ignored him for the most part. Still, he wasn’t sure if that hurt even worse than the abuse his father heaped upon him. But in the end his mother was mostly content to spend her days eating everything in sight – even the precious goddamn apples – while paging through one of her well-worn Bibles with her chubby fingers. As near as Nathan could figure the sin of gluttony wasn’t a section with which she seemed especially familiar, but he’d never dared mention such an observation.

  There had never been any hugs or kisses when he’d been a child, and he’d always had to tend to his own wounds after the beatings, which wasn’t very easy since they were mostly on his backside and the backs of his thighs, where the teachers at school and the parishioners at church couldn’t see them.

  Amazingly, his parents seemed to get along just fine with one another. Nathan was always amazed and disgusted to hear their iron bed creaking late at night beneath his mother’s massive bulk, always wondering to himself how his father could bring himself to lie with such a foul woman. Then again, the old man wasn’t much of a prize himself.

  As a child, Nathan’s chores had been many, but instead of trying to avoid them, as most children were wont to do, he quickly learned to lose himself in them. The chores were a safe haven for him, a temporary relief from the hellish existence of his daily life.